


Christmas Sick

by LadybugsFanfics



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Christmas, Cute, F/M, Fluff, cute cute cute, having a cold, sick, tom hiddleston is to cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22258249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadybugsFanfics/pseuds/LadybugsFanfics
Summary: You're sick in the weeks leading up to Christmas, luckily, Tom's there to help you with cuddles and warmth.
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston/Reader
Kudos: 32





	Christmas Sick

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's not Christmas anymore, but I didn't post this when it was and this is just some cute fluff to keep you all feeling better ^_^

When the doorbell rings, you can’t bother to get up to get it. As loud as your hoarse voice will carry, you yell that the door is open―usually it isn’t, but your boyfriend is on his way over and you knew when you asked that you didn’t have the energy to leave your couch and the warmth of the blanket you had draped over yourself.

A few moments later, Tom appears in the living room. He carries with him two grocery bags and shoots you a smile before making his way to the kitchen. 

“I brought chicken soup, love,” he says. “I hope you are at least a bit hungry.”

You only nod and sit up a little, because he will bring in a full bowl of soup and you can’t eat it lying down. You stare in the doorway to your small kitchen, waiting patiently for Tom to come back to you. Neither of you ever cared about being with each other when you were sick, usually it made for more cuddles. 

He comes in with a bowl of soup, and you’re right, it is full. You make room for him at the end of the couch, and he places the soup on the table. “C’mere.” He opens up his arm a little and you easily make your way to lie in the crook of his arm. “I’ll feed you, okay?”

“You don’t have to,” you say, but your voice is low and soft and you really want him to. 

“I will.” He plants a soft kiss on your forehead before moving to grab the soup bowl. And for at least half an hour (one episode plus some more of the show you’re watching but not really paying attention to), he feeds you. Your sore throat feels a little better, and you regain some energy. 

Yet, when you’re done, and lay your head to rest in his lap, you’re not complaining about not being full of energy. Tom’s long fingers stroke through your hair, coming to massage your scalp every now and then, and it’s one of the best feelings in the world. 

You close your eyes, and don’t even notice how you slowly drift off. 

\---

“Darling.”

It’s Tom’s soft voice in your ear that wakes you. You look up at him, drowsiness still on your mind and slightly blurring your line of vision. 

Tom smiles at you, giving you a kiss on the forehead again. His fingers are still needling through your hair. “It’s getting late, maybe you should sleep in your bed instead?”

“How long have I been sleeping?” 

“A few hours, darling. It’s eight.”

You sigh. “But the night’s still young. You’ve just been here with me? Not doing anything?” A tiny ounce of guilt falls over you, knowing you’ve just been using him as a pillow and he hasn’t done anything for a few _hours._

Tom shakes his head. “I’ve been watching TV, and I’ve talked a little with Benedict. It’s more than okay, love.” He presses another kiss to your forehead. “Now, let’s get you to bed.”

It takes a little extra to have you move, because, in all honesty, you don’t want to. But Tom hauls you up from the couch and half carries you to your bedroom. Only, when you get there, you protest from going in at the same time. 

Tom raises a brow. “What’s wrong?”

You press your lips together. “I hung a mistletoe in the doorway earlier in the week. But I wasn’t supposed to be sick.” The whine can be easily head in your voice. You look up at Tom, who only smiles. 

“I don’t mind.” 

And he pulls you both to stand underneath it and places a chaste kiss on your lips. In the moment, you pull him back down for another, one deeper and longer. Your hands curl into his shirt and his hands are placed on your hips, helping you keep your balance. 

When you pull away, you lay your head down on his chest. “If you get sick now, you have to blame yourself.”

Tom’s laughter echoes along with the rumble of his chest. He strokes his hand up and down your back, and uses his other to tilt your chin up to place another chaste kiss on your lips. “I’ll take those odds.”

\---

It takes a few more days for you to get better, but Tom’s there all the time. He cuddles you, makes you food, and does his best to help you. 

Only, as you grow better, you slowly notices that he’s getting worse. And when he suddenly sneezes and gets a coughing fit, you turn to him with your hands on your hips. 

“I told you so.”

Tom smiles at you and pulls you closer. He captures your lips with his and you lean into him. “I don’t care.”


End file.
